


Lessons in Love

by Umbrella_ella



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, and fluff abounds, belle can't cook and it's funny, belle tries so hard, featuring tongue-tied and always professional Chef Gold, the chef au none of you asked for, there are feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 20:31:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15826401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umbrella_ella/pseuds/Umbrella_ella
Summary: When Belle makes a rushed promise to cook for her boyfriend Gary Gaston's parents, she has just one small problem in her way. She can't cook. So, when a mysterious newcomer usurps Granny as the go-to chef for advice, offering beginner cooking lessons, Belle leaps at the chance to improve her dismal skillset.Learning how to boil water is all well and good, but it's learning about this new chef in town that has her truly intrigued. Perhaps Belle will learn far more from Chef Gold than she thinks.





	Lessons in Love

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something fluffy and ridiculous, so I did. Enjoy, please!

She was a complete and utter idiot.

No, she was worse, a _foolish_ idiot.

Or so Ruby reminded Belle in between the thudding bass and piercing bops of the techno music that filled every corner of the club. Belle clutched what remained of her drink closer, as though that might keep the leering stares of a few men at the next table away.

“—you’re worried about whether they’ll like you, and you’re offering to cook for them? You might as well just lace their food with rat poison, that’ll kill them quicker!” Ruby hid a laugh in her third martini of the night, draining it with a smack of her lips.

“Hey, it’s not like Storybrooke has loads of options for five star dining!”

Ruby chuckled, low and humming, surveying the crowd of sweaty bodies pressed together with wild abandon and caught her lip between her teeth, a predatory gleam in her eye.

“Ruby,” Belle warned, “You said you’d stay with me.”

She was well aware she sounded a bit whiny, a bit childish, but her petulance was well-served. She’d been dragged out of her apartment above the library by pleading eyes and promises of craft beer, as opposed to her preferred quiet night in with her biography of John Adams and nice mug of her favorite brew. Her weak point was her need to tell her best friend of her fatal mistake, the one that had resulted in her initial, blithering phone call to Ruby Lucas— she’d offered to cook her boyfriend’s parents when they visited during the holidays.

Belle French had never met a problem she couldn’t solve.

Except one, it seemed; cooking was a beast unto itself, and Belle was very, _very_ bad at it.

Groaning, Belle watched as her friend launched herself towards Ella Glass and Mary Margaret Nolan, content to bounce to the tinny music that thumped through the floors and shook the windows. Wallets and phones were all clutched in hands or safely stowed in purses, which hung around their necks, and Belle doubted the three women would miss her much, so she grasped her coat, wrapping it around her tightly in preparation for the bitter early autumn wind that was sure to gust through the coastal Maine town.

The door gave a worrisome creak as she opened it, letting it fall shut against the drone of music and laughter, and she sighed out in a rush of breath. Her forehead rested against the harsh, cool brick of the bar front, and she considered vomiting right there. Not because she was overly drunk, not by half, but the twist of knowing that Gary’s parents opinion of her would be entirely based on her abhorrent cooking skills turned her stomach.

“Are you alright?”

A voice cut through her varied musings about the night to come, far away though it was, and she turned, ready to assert herself. Her mouth snapped shut. Dark eyes seemed to pierce her with a quizzical look, and a narrow face tilted, apparently waiting for an answer. The man in question stood in front of her, the streetlamp illuminating his slim form and the dark jacket cinched against the cold nip in the late night air. The stranger’s hair ruffled in the bite of wind that wound its way through the empty street. His nose was thin, and perhaps he wasn’t classically handsome, but his eyes were kind.

“I’m—” Belle swallowed against the sudden dryness in her mouth, cottony and odd, “I’m fine, thank you.”

The man smiled then, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his eyes flicked up to the signage that blinked neon, declaring that this was indeed, the Rabbit Hole. Green and purple flashed across his face, painting out the hollows of his cheeks and lighting up eyes that were far too sad for the kindness she’d found in them, and she pulled her eyes away, hitching her purse over her shoulder tightly.

“Excuse me, I was just leaving.”

“Of course, have a good night.” There it was again, that soft lilt, the smile barely there in his voice, and if it were any other night and any other circumstance, she might have introduced herself. But as it was, she was tired, it was late, he was kind, and she hadn’t had quite enough to drink to be so bold as to offer anything beyond a parting thank you, let alone go about introducing herself to strange people on the street.

As she clicked past him, her heels tottering along the pavement, she heard the distant creak of the bar door, and a thump, and all was quiet once more.

When she arrived home, treading carefully over the welcome mat to the lonely apartment, she greeted her cat, Lumiere, who offered a single, small chitter in greeting and promptly curled up on the sofa and resumed his nap. The lamplight flooded the small room, her large bookshelf looming on the far wall, and she was suddenly convinced that one day the shelves would simply give way. The lamp flickered, and she sighed, exhaustion plowing into her like a massive pile of bricks, and toed herself out of her heels, her toes aching as they sunk into the plush carpeting.

It took her some time to ready herself for bed, and even then, as she glimpsed the clock face, she sighed out in frustration. Today had absolutely shredded every nerve she had, and her phone call with Gary about his parents that afternoon had done nothing but set her on edge. Her pajamas were warm and she curled beneath the covers, stroking Lumiere’s back with one hand as she fumbled on her nightstand with the other. Retrieving her phone, she tapped out a quick message.

 

 

_Hey, are you still up?_

Belle’s brows knitted together. It was still early, at least by Gary’s standards, and she wondered at the way the little check mark appeared, indicating he’d seen it. A half an hour and three more chapters into her book later, she was still left on read. She paid no mind to it, humming out a tune as she looked up cooking tutorials. After a few moments of browsing complicated techniques that made her eyes cross, Belle turned her phone off and set it to the side.

It was best not to dwell on Gary’s peculiarities. After all, she was content.

Belle thought of the way Gary’s smile never quite reached his eyes, even when she told one of her best jokes, even when she kissed him goodbye, and quite suddenly, she wasn’t quite sure that content was the right word to describe it all. But even so, the relationship was safe and Gary’s hands were always warm on hers and his lips were soft and she was sure she could only grow happier.

Her heart seized at the thought, at the idea that perhaps one day she might be happy with him, and she fell into a fitful slumber.

* * *

 

The next morning dawned early and bright, sunlight breaking through the lacy curtains that were for little more than decoration, dotting her blue bedspread with streams of light, and Belle’s mouth felt fuzzy. Groaning at the feel of Lumiere’s weight pressing on her back, she grunted and cracked one eye open, surveying her surroundings. Her hamper was half-full, and the dress she’d borrowed from Ruby lay pooled at the foot of the bed, and she rolled over to look at the time. The display blared out a piece of classical music, courtesy of the local university’s radio station, and her hand slapped down on the top, fiddling with buttons until it was blissfully quiet.

A beat, two, and then she peeled herself upright, grumbling and attempting to tuck her messy hair into a halfway manageable bun as she stumbled to her feet.

Mornings were quiet here, and she liked it that way. The coffee machine gurgled, percolating as she moved about her usual routine, bleary eyes opening as sleep gave way to wakefulness.

“Good morning, Lu— I suppose you’re hungry, hm?”

Belle stooped to fill her companion’s dish and let the flow of warm water wash her hands of the smell of dry cat food, which at six in the morning, could hardly be described as wonderful. Tolerated, at best, but never wonderful.

Flicking through her notifications on her phone, Belle allowed herself a moment of irritation at the notion that Gary had not texted her back.

Far from possessive of worried, Belle liked her freedom and Gary did too, but she’d been in a panic last night, needing reassurance from her boyfriend, and the only messages she had received were increasingly nonsensical keyboard smashes from Ruby, and the last was an ominous _u r so screwed hahajaljsdeoahdajsld omfg_.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t aware of such a fact, but that she didn’t like to reminded of her impending doom. Which was only a few months away, she thought with a frown.

With that thought in mind, she dressed and bounded down the stairs into the main floor of the library, where she unlocked the doors for the day’s readers.

It was nearing half past nine by the time the door scuffed open, and Belle peered around a shelf, pen behind her ear and books teetering her arms. She smiled brightly upon seeing her newest visitor, though he rarely actually checked out books.

“Leroy!” she beamed, and if all she received in return was an answering grunt, she didn’t mind much. After all, there was a true romantic beneath his scruffy exterior. His flannel shirt smelled of dirt and wood and wet stone, and she suspected that his truck, should she peer outside, would have piles of wood in the bed.

“Hey, sister, Mayor Mills stopped me in the street, wants me to put these up for her,”

Leroy flapped a sheaf of papers in front of his face, his frown indicating that it was the last thing he’d like to be doing, “got any tape?”

“Of course!” Getting down from the stepladder proved harder than she thought it would be, and she wobbled precariously before stepping down.

“You know, one of these days, you’re gonna fall, and no one is gonna catch you,” Leroy chuckled, waiting at the desk for her to dump her armful of books onto a clear spot on her otherwise cluttered space.

“I doubt that, Leroy, besides, you’ll catch me, right?”

Leroy’s huff of amusement had her grinning. She’d always liked the man, gruff and blunt as he was, because he’d always been remarkably kind to her, ever since she’d come to stay in this small town with no library. He’d helped her with the repairs in the old building to bring it up to code, and when the mayor had scoffed at it all, he’d worked even harder.

“Got that tape, or what?”

Belle grabbed a roll of tape from the drawer she'd been sifting through, shouting out triumphantly as she handed it over.

“Maybe I should take a flyer and hang it in the door, so that everyone comes in can see it?” Leroy laughed, and slid one across the desk.

“Here ya go, sister, thanks for the tape.”

Belle let out a hum of acknowledgement as the door shut behind him, her eyes scanning the page.

_Cooking with Community: A beginner-level cooking course designed for those who burn toast, Cooking with Community offers one on one, classroom style cooking techniques taught by Atticus Gold, renowned chef who is looking to bring a taste of refinement to Storybrooke with a new restaurant opening soon! Join us at the Community Center on Tuesdays and Thursdays, 6:30 PM. All equipment provided._

Belle rolled her eyes at the notion of “refinement” and found herself bristling at the thought of Granny’s being dragged through the mud for the sake of this Gold bloke’s new venture. With a firm hand, she plastered the signage up in the library window, and thought very little of it for the rest of the day.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed it, please leave a review, a kudos, or come find me on tumblr, a-tardis-at-downton.


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